


One - Mississippi

by ReadItandWeepFics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Deaths, Dealing With Loss, F/M, Infinity War spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadItandWeepFics/pseuds/ReadItandWeepFics
Summary: After the battle with Thanos, Steve hopes for one last miracle.WARNING: VERY ANGSTY. Please don’t read if you’re not prepared to suffer. Some Infinity War spoilers.





	One - Mississippi

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I AM SO SORRY. I don’t know why this demon story came out of me. I’m so sorry I did my baby dirty!
> 
> Inspiration: “One Mississippi” - Brett Eldredge

Bucky. Sam. T’Challa. Wanda. Vision. No one could even tell him about Tony. They had fought against Thanos and lost. The cost had been a steep price to pay. Steve rests his head against the glass of the taxi cab window watching out of it as the driver weaves through reconstruction and cleanup crews. The streets are littered with missing persons flyers and memorial posters. People still clinging to hope that loved ones could be found and others who had witnessed them disappear.

Steve swallows hard, the scene driving the dagger further into his heart. The evidence of his failure. He faces forward, focusing ahead on his own impending relief or renewed misery. His gut is telling him to expect the latter.

He’d been calling her nonstop since getting back stateside. There was never an answer. The part of him that was still optimistic told him that they were still working on downed lines, and with all the people in the world looking for their own family, it was possible the call wasn’t coming through. He wasn’t naïve though. Lady Luck had never been kind to him.

The cab pulls up to the curb in front of a red brick apartment building. Steve’s heart clenches tighter, his stomach wrapping itself in painful knots. He pays the driver and steps out. The building is mostly intact with the exception of beat up Honda Civic crushed into its side. The mortar and brick crumbling around the impact spot.

Dread seeps into Steve’s veins as he pushes the call button to her apartment. The call buzzes as he holds it down but there’s no answer. He continues to push buttons until someone lets him in. The door lock clicks and Steve drags the door open. 

He takes his time getting up to her place, prolonging the inevitable. He counts the floors as the elevator rises to her floor. 1…2…3…4…

All too soon Steve’s standing in front of her door. He fumbles to fish his key out of his jean pocket, his anxiety rising enough to make him shake.

Please. Please. Please. Please.

He keeps repeating in his head as he unbolted the door and carefully opens it. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn. Feeling blindly for the kitchen light switch, he squints in the sudden brightness when he flips it on. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. Everything neat and in its place, with the exception of a scattering of papers on the dining table and a coffee cup. Steve walks to the table.

He peers into the cup. Cold and curdled coffee still sits inside it. Her lipstick stains one side of the mug. He traces his finger around the lip, staving off his despair by mere threads.

“Y/N…” he calls. Silence.

He reluctantly walks down the hallway, poking his head into the dim bathroom. Her towel lay crumpled on the floor from her last shower. She never did remember to hang it up. A lump forms in his throat. 

“Y/N.” He calls a little more forcefully, desperately.

Steve pushes the bedroom door open, turning on the light. The bed linens are unmade on one side. The side he usually slept still tucked in. A night shirt is discarded onto the bed. His shirt. He picks it up and presses it to his face. He inhales. It still carried her scent. Hot tears prick the corners of his eyes.

He turns, glancing down at the nightstand. Two picture frames stand proudly, their position facing the bed. One was of him and her, the Christmas before he had to go into hiding. Steve beamed at the camera while she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. That picture wasn’t what caught his attention. 

The second image was of a cherub-faced little boy, with white blonde hair and and deep baby blue eyes. He was grinning up at someone, teeth, mouth, and cheeks stained red from the sticky popsicle he’d been eating. Steve picks up the frame, his shirt still fisted in his hand. He stares at it disbelieving.

He shuffles back out of the bedroom, eyes shifting from wall to wall. Sure enough there were pictures of the same kid hung on each side, some with his mother, others of just him smiling and laughing. He stops at the end. Steve’s old army photo hangs there next to one of Y/N with a little bundled baby in her arms. A makeshift family portrait. He stares back down to the frame in his hand.

A little boy he hadn’t known about and never met.

The threads finally break. With a deafening roar Steve tears through the apartment, upturning furniture. Decorations and lamps break; books flying off as they’re thrown from their resting place. In minutes the place is dismantled, an outer reflection of the damage inside of Steve.

His legs give out and he slumps to the floor. His knee bumps the coffee mug, now chipped and broken, sitting in its spoiled mess. He lifts it his lips and presses a kiss to the lipstick imprint. The picture frame and shirt curled in against his chest. Steve sobs. The keening ripping its way out of his chest.

A floor board creaks. Steve’s breath hitches and his head shoots up, searching. Y/N stands in the hallway. Her clothes are disheveled. Her hair is ratty and greasy, flying away from her face. There are dark circles under her raw-red eyes, face blotchy from crying. A stuffed teddy bear is clutched tightly to her chest. Her voice breaks.

“Steve?”


End file.
